


The Secret Life of Sharon Francis

by Katbelle



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Child Abuse, F/M, Human Experimentation, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-15
Updated: 2011-10-15
Packaged: 2017-10-24 15:34:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/265104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katbelle/pseuds/Katbelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The life and lies of Sharon Marko, de domo Francis, primo voto Xavier.</p><p>
  <em>It's not perfect, but that's the way the world is, you can't have everything and you simply have to live with it.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Secret Life of Sharon Francis

**Author's Note:**

> Fic was written for [this prompt](http://1stclass-kink.livejournal.com/8846.html?thread=19996814#t19996814) at the 1stclass kink meme. The request was simple - something about Sharon Xavier, not necessarily connected to a story of how she mistreated Charles. That is of course included in this story as well, because that's an important factor in Sharon's life. But it's not only that.
> 
> It's a story of a princess, of a girl lost alone somewhere in the Roaring Twenties, of a dangerous woman who is fully in control.

**The Secret Life of Sharon Francis ******

1.

You're six and he's eight that day you first see him. It's the day your whole life takes a sudden turn towards new and unknown, and it's going to shape your future — but you don't know that then, you won't know that for a long time. You're just a girl, you're six and you're sitting by the window in your bedroom, looking out with a bored expression on her face. Your maid and your governess are sitting with you, the former indulging in your love for having your hair touched, the latter futilely trying to bring your attention to the lesson.

" _Mademoiselle, répétez après moi, s'il vous plaît._ "

You make a face and the maid notices it in the window reflection. Young miss does not like being told to do anything, even if it is delivered in a form of a polite plea, it is a common knowledge in the house. The maid quickly untangles your hair, destroys the almost finished plait. She combs her fingers through your hair and you sigh, close your eyes. The maid takes a strand of the blond hair and starts braiding it again, this time the French style. It pacifies you, if only for a moment.

" _C'est très important, Mademoiselle Sharon_ ," the governess says, but your attention is already somewhere else, beyond this room, beyond the walls of your daddy's mansion.

You watch your daddy talk to the new gardener. Daddy is gesturing wildly, shakes his head several times, points his finger at the old gardener's house. The old man had hanged himself in there, you know that. It was a terrible day, you remember, it was unusually hot and the staff was shouting, and your daddy was displeased, because that meant your mother's rose garden would not be finished for her birthday. You remember that your mother wanted the garden very much and the inconvenient death of old gardener had left her snapping at everyone for a week.

No one wanted to live in the old gardener's house after that.

That is, until now, you think as you watch the new gardener bow his head before your daddy. The gardener has a family, you were told, a wife and a son and you were not permitted to play with the boy. It's fine, as far as you are concerned. It's not like he's going to have as many toys as you do.

" _Mademoiselle Sharon, notre leçon a fini._ "

You don' reply, because you just can't be bothered at the moment. There are your maid's clever fingers in your hair, the silly lesson is over and the new gardener's family is slowly making their way to the little house. You wrinkle your nose in disgust at the sight of the gardener's wife, because even you — at the age of six — know that these colours simply don't match and that this particular model of a dress is, as mother would say, _passé_.

Suddenly the gardener's son turns his head and looks at the house, and you inhale sharply. The gardener's son is just looking around, but it seems to you that he looked directly into your bedroom window, that he looked directly at you.

"Miss Sharon?"

The maid puts a hand on your back, obviously done with the braid, and only then you realise you've started shaking. You slide off the windowsill and move past your governess — you don't excuse yourself, you are the princess here, daddy always tells you, and you don't have to do anything.

You quickly run downstairs and into the sunny drawing room where your mother and her friends are talking fast and in hushed voices. You don't pay any attention to the ladies and they in turn ignore you, and you open the terrace doors and stumble outside, into the garden. You run to the orchard that is adjacent to the gardener's house. You used to sneak up on the old one, misplace his keys so that he would be late for work, and the old one always grumbled when he saw you, but he never said a word.

You run, you run as fast as you can and you bump right into a taller figure. You lose your balance, but the person catches your arm and prevents you from falling down and dirtying your new dress.

"Are you alright?"

The person — a boy, the new gardener's boy, you notice when you look up — doesn't call you 'miss' and doesn't even sound polite. He asks the question as if you were one of his friends, not _the_ miss, the princess.

"I am fine," you answer and wrest your arm out of his tight grip. The boy smiles and it makes his boring gray eyes light up. It almost makes him look pretty, you think, if only he had better clothes and shorter hair, and wasn't so... different.

"I'm Charlie," he introduces himself and extends his hand as if for you to shake it. You want to laugh, that cold, flippant sound that daddy sometimes makes when he's talking to one of his coworkers.

"Miss Sharon," you say.

You raise your blond head proudly and you don't shake his hand, and he throws his head back and laughs and laughs, and — for some reason, in spite yourself — you laugh too.

This is Charlie, you think later, in those moments when you decide not to obey your daddy's newest rule.

17.

You schedule a meeting with the lawyers and have Morgan drive you there. He helps you in and out of the car, supports you as you stumble on your way to the building. There are days when you are unable to do anything by yourself, weakened by the weight loss, by the constant pain. You look old — the alcohol had its input in making you that way, but mostly it's the disease slowly eating your insides. Your blond hair is not glossy anymore, the colour dulled, and your skin is sickly yellow. You don't look like a woman who is only thirty-six. You don't even feel as one.

"Mrs. Marko," Wendell Halligan greets you as you walk into his office. He doesn't comment on your health, on your appearance and you are infinitely grateful for that.

He offers you tea and you decline, as you always do. It's been years since you've last felt _British_ and those memories belong to a woman long dead, so you can't afford to — or more likely, you simply don't _want to_ — drag them back to the surface.

There are more pressing matters you need to see to.

"Is there anything particular that you want to achieve, Mrs. Marko?"

Halligan has never been a friend, but he was loyal to Brian and this makes him the best person to turn to. You shift in the armchair, rearrange your position, and your fold hands in your lap.

"I want, once again, to go through my will and all that," you wave your hand, "legal paperwork. I need to know if there's any _chance_ that my husband might try and challenge Charles' right to the inheritance."

For all his flaws — and he has them aplenty, you are fully aware — Kurt is not stupid. He knows better than to try to overrule your will or Brian's will. Everything — from all the money and the estate to the sorry lab equipment that Kurt has — is Charles', his and only his. Of course Charles won't be able to touch any of it until he's twenty one, and Kurt is still going to be his legal guardian, but that's only several years. You're sure they'll manage.

"Of course you mean both your children," Halligan says flatly, scribbling down some notes.

Raven. Raven, of course. Ah, well, that's another story, your Raven.

"Of course," you confirm sweetly, though you both know that neither your nor Brian's will mentions the girl. And it won't, you'll make sure of that, no matter Charles' opinion on that. He's a boy, arrogant and far too idealistic, and if there's one thing _you_ know about life, it's that people leave. It's just a matter of time.

You leave Halligan's office several hours later, when you're content with the knowledge that no one in the world — even if they had an army of lawyers at disposal — will ever be able to get a single dollar from the giant fortune that you're leaving to Charles.

That fortune composes of your money and Brian's money, two wealthy families bound together. That fortune is the only thing you and Brian ever got right as a couple.

"Are you going to tell young mister Charles, ma'am?" Morgan asks you as you drive back to Westchester.

He's one of the only people who know and, frankly, you want to keep it that way. Morgan knows and Ally, the housekeeper, knows. They have to know, they can't _not_ know — they take care of you and they take care of the household, after all. And there's also Cain, and he knows too — found out by accident, found you doubled over and in pain, helped you — but Cain is stupid. Too stupid for his own good, so stupid that he won't say a word, stupid enough to make you feel better, sometimes.

"About my condition?" There aren't many things you can do for Charles. But you can protect him. "Of course not."

If you die within a month, and if it is faster than your doctors suspected — well, that's for the best.

2.

Charlie covers your neck with open-mouthed kisses, leaves a trail of pale red marks from your ear to your collarbone. He opens your shirt with one hand, the other one keeps entangled in your long blond hair. He maneuvers his hand and unclasps your bra, brings it down, takes it off. He sucks one of the nipples and teases the other with his clever fingers, calloused from the cold water and dirt, the plants and the roses in mother's garden. You moan wantonly and he quickly claims your lips in a deep kiss. You have to keep quiet, hidden under an old plum tree in the orchard, close to the gardener's house and far enough from the windows of the drawing room. You can't be seen from here, but you still can be heard.

"Martha will know what we're doing," Charlie pants into her ear and he's right, her maid will surely recognise the noises, will know where to look for them. She knows all about the little princess, knows where the fair-haired miss used to sneak out to when she wanted to play with the gardener's son. Knows where miss Sharon stole the gardener's son first kiss.

"Martha... won't tell," you argue, because Martha knows already and she didn't tell your mother or daddy. In a way, she is happy for you, if not because of the choice you've made.

Charlie puts his hand on your thigh and moves it upwards, so very slowly. He skims the lace of your panties, slips a finger inside, teases you.

"We should run away," you breathe and Charlie freezes. He sits back and looks at you with those too big, too earnest, boring gray eyes of his. He laughs softly.

"You wouldn't survive outside this town," he says and you purse your lips.

"Don't you love me?"

He bends, leans over and kisses you, this time gently, without much pressure. The passion is forgotten.

"I love you," Charlie whispers, "and I will wait for you to be ready to run away with me."

You cup the back of his head and crush your lips together. He loves you but he doesn't believe in you. You love him and you will prove him wrong.

You're seventeen and he's nineteen when you buy tickets to New York _just because_ he made it into a challenge.

16.

"Raven, your tutor will be here in a moment. Go to the music room and prepare."

Raven's head snaps up and she looks crushed. It's Sunday, it's sunny and warm outside, a perfect summer day. Charles and the girl were going to have a trip, have been planning it for the last two weeks — with Ally's help they've stashed food, secured a tent, the girl even learnt how to make a proper campfire. You know of the trip, you've known all along — you were the one who had given them permission to go.

Raven's gaze travels from your face to Charles' and she looks at Charles with utter devastation, pleadingly. Charles clears his throat.

"Mother," he starts and you can't remember the time when he still called you 'mum'. To be honest, you don't think he ever did. "You said we could go hiking..."

"Maybe I did," you say and your voice is devoid of any emotion. "But Mr. Keller informed me yesterday that he would be available today for a session."

"Mother," Raven tries pleading and you silence her with a raised hand. You turn to Charles, because this is meant only for him.

"You are supposed to take care of your sister, Charles," you tell him and he flinches, just barely, but you notice. "You are supposed to protect her. Do you truly believe that choosing a _trip_ over _education_ is going to make her life better?"

It's quite easy to guilt him into doing things. He's sensitive and fragile, too concerned when it comes to people he loves. You have no idea whom he took that trait after.

"I promise to take a double session next week, mother," Raven suddenly says, seeing an opportunity. "Besides, I don't need to know how to play the piano that well."

You turn your head to the girl and she blushes furiously.

"You don't? Raven, you never know what skills might prove useful one day. Not to mention that a young lady of your position should be broadly educated."

"But mother..."

"And what if a need to fend for yourself ever arises, mhm? You won't be able to do a thing, with your skills and abilities. Who are you going to be, then? A _waitress_?"

Your tone is clearly mocking and Raven easily picks up on that. Tears fall down her cheeks as she pushes her chair back and gets up, angry and embarrassed. Charles looks at you with a half-heartbroken, half-loathsome expression on his face, then rushes out of the dining room and after his sister. You turn your attention back to the breakfast. You like what you saw on Charles' face. You hope that one day there won't be any energy or faith left in him, that he simply will stop caring about what you do or think or say or feel.

That's only fair, after all. And it is healthy for him too. You don't love him and so he shouldn't love you either. Otherwise you'll break him and you've spent a lot of time making sure he stayed relatively unscratched. You don't like to have your time wasted.

"That was cold," Kurt comments. He never interferes when it comes to the matter between you and your children. He gives you space. "Even for you, Sharon, that was _cold_."

You just ask him to pass the bowl with jam in it.

3.

For a while, everything is perfect.

You rent a little room over a bakery in Little Italy. Charlie gets a job — nothing fancy, but it's enough to make you maybe not comfortable, but happy — and you get your first taste of running a house. It's exhausting and you're terrible at it, never cooked or cleaned anything in your whole life, but you are trying. This is New York, after all, and this is Charlie whom you love, and this is your little life you're growing to appreciate. You're just Ronnie here — as Rosa, the landlady, affectionately calls you — not miss Sharon, the little princess of John Francis, the beautiful heiress from the South. Just Ronnie, who only knows how to prepare spaghetti and _that's_ because Rosa once took pity on you and showed you how to do it properly.

It's your dream, if you ever had one. It's your dream come true and you turn eighteen and it's still there.

You're nineteen and he's twenty-one when the recession hits and it all goes downhill from there. You can't really afford Rosa's little room anymore and Charlie tries working two jobs before he loses both of them, and you can't pretend to be a housewife anymore. At first you're confident, maybe overly — but you've had the best governesses and tutors, your parents have put a lot of money into your education. And then you understand that where they've paid the money, you lacked attention; none of your various but imperfect skills make you a good employee and you're not good enough to teach someone else's children. You get frustrated, because this is not what you've had in mind. You start missing your home, you start missing having people to do things for you, you miss the presence of the cook, of the housekeeper, of old Martha.

Briefly, you lived a dream, but now you've woken and reality comes crashing. You don't want New York anymore.

"Maybe we should go back," Charlie whispers into your blond hair at night.

You shake your head. As much as you want to, your pride will not let you admit defeat.

15.

You once catch Kurt hitting Charles. You know that violence is one of his ways of raising children and that he's practiced it on Cain, but he's never tried it on Charles before. It's not that bad, actually, you've seen worse bruises on your mother's hands, but still. It's _Charles_.

"If you ever raise a hand on Charles again," you threaten him in the study later that evening, make the words sound sweet and innocent, "I'll end you."

Kurt swallows and you know that he won't try anything, at least not as long as you're at the mansion. He knows better than to cross you, he knows better than to try and harm Charles.

Sometimes you think that Kurt is the smarter of your husbands.

4.

You're still nineteen and he's still twenty-one when you start fighting.

It's not serious at first, just little spats, but the resentment between you grows and grows and after some time you can't help yourself. You've been bottling up your feelings and one day the levee breaks, and it all the hurtful words just spill from your mouth. And you don't mean it when you accuse him of destroying your life — of course you don't, you insisted on New York, you've stolen him from his family — but Charlie's had a tough day, has been deemed useless and he can't really cope with you and your tantrum.

"Then crawl back home!" he shouts, then takes his jacket and slams the door shut.

"I hate you!" you yell after him and you don't mean that as well. You love Charlie and he's the love of your fucking life, and you can't truly understand how one person can love another so fiercely. You love Charlie so much that you're with him even when it hurts you.

Charlie doesn't come back. You love him, but he doesn't come back.

Ever.

14.

You know immediately that something's wrong. In the morning, the cook tells you that someone has been through the things in the store-room. Several jars are gone, he says, but neither of you can remember what exactly was in those jars.

"Bloody kids," the cook grumbles and it catches your attention.

Even though you've been married to Kurt for almost four years, the staff never referred to him or Cain as members of the family. They've always, even in one sentence, kept Charles and Cain separate, so you know that he's not talking about the boys.

There are five plates in the dining room, five sets of cutlery, five glasses with warm drinks — cocoa for Charles and Cain, coffee for her, tea for Kurt and also cocoa in the fifth glass. None of the maids as much as bats an eye on the excessive number of everything.

"Good morning, mother."

Charles walks into the room as stiffly as he always does, but he's also unusually nervous. About what, it becomes clear when a young — no older than ten, you estimate — girl comes in after him, her little hand squeezed tightly in his slender one. The girl is beautiful, with a round face and wavy blond hair — to be honest, you think she looks like you did at her age. Her appearance would be similar enough to make people think that...

"Charles, Raven."

Kurt enters the dining room and doesn't spare a glance on the blond girl. He just sits down, takes a sip of his tea and starts reading the newspaper. Charles relaxes a bit and focuses his attention on you.

"Mother," Charles says and tries to sound confident, he doesn't quite make it, bless him, "Raven and I would like to go and buy her some... new clothes."

"You would," you murmur and Charles squeezes the girl's hand harder, reassuringly. "And why is that?"

"Sharon," Kurt says suddenly and it's so unexpected that your eyes widen comically. "For once, don't be such an ice queen. You have a princess at home — if your daughter wants to go shopping, let her."

Charles bites down on his lip and waits for your reply. The girl — Raven, was it, they called her Raven — watches you with gray eyes wide and so boring. They need you to say something and Charles probably wants to know if, whatever it is that he did to make everyone think you have a daughter, worked. Well, obviously it didn't, you still know that you only have one child and it's Charles, but if he wants to keep the girl, if he wants a pet — then fine, by all means. You can't give him anything, you can't give him what he wants from you, but you won't take away from him either. The girl can stay, you decide.

"You can go," you says finally and Charles looks relieved, as if someone took a great weight off his shoulders. "Just remember, your sister is _your_ responsibility."

5.

You spend all the remaining money you have on trying to find Charlie. You can't live without him, you realise, it's like your life suddenly has no meaning and no warmth in it. So you go looking and when the police disappoints you, you take matters into your own hands. Rosa knows some people, Italian and dangerous, and they know other people, Spanish, you think. Either way, you get introduced to the Chantel sisters and they promise you help.

"I have a gift," Agurne Chantel tells you as she takes your hand. "If you tell me a name, just a name, I will be able to tell you when the person is."

"Please," you breathe and the Chantel sisters laugh.

"Whom do you seek?"

"Charlie," you say quickly, "Charlie Tallis."

Agurne squeezes your hand and concentrates. Soon droplets of sweat start appearing on her forehead, but she doesn't let go. She is crashing your fingers and trembling violently, and Lourdes slaps her hard. Agurne looks lost for a moment, before her eyes settle on her sister.

"I don't see him," Agurne whispers and you feel cold again, as if that burning hope you had several minutes ago just died and left you all alone.

"What does it mean?" you ask.

"He may be out of Agurne's reach," Lourdes explains patiently and you want to believe that she's not only saying this for you.

You thank the sisters for their time, pay them for the trouble, but you don't leave immediately. You linger in that tiny room at the back of the club the sisters' family is running until Lourdes puts a hand on your shoulder.

"What is it, chica?"

You think about your parents' mansion and the staff and the luxurious life. You think about Rosa's little room and shattered dream, and about Charlie and you love him even more, you love him with every fibre of your being and you know, in that moment, that you'll never love anyone like that ever again. He may be gone, he may never come back, but you'll always be waiting. You'll be waiting for him to be ready to run away with you and start again.

"I don't have anywhere to go," you say and it is true, without Charlie everywhere is grim and cold and unwelcome.

"You may stay at the club," Lourdes offers. "You can dance and you can sing, and we always need waitresses."

You stay.

13.

It's been seven months and Kurt proposes. He doesn't drop to one knee and profess his undying love. He does it quietly as Kurt does everything around you these days; you are sitting in Brian's old office, you're drinking scotch and playing poker and Kurt states that he wants to marry you.

You're not in love and you're not even pretending that it's anything more than a business transaction. It is not. It's only a matter of convenience, because you both have things the other party wants. Kurt wants to continue his research and wants to be comfortable, you need him to stay quiet. Kurt wants the money you have, you need someone who'll take away the responsibility and Charles.

It's a simple agreement, _consensus ad idem_. Kurt offers marriage and you are drunk enough to see the point he is making. You accept.

Charles is furious when he finds out, but that was to be expected. You can deal with his anger and his hatred. But you can't deal with _him_.

6.

Brian is handsome and charming, blue-eyed wonder whose smile can break hundreds of hearts. You catch his eye because you're pretty and educated, upper-class American who somehow landed in a place like that. He likes you enough to always request your presence at his table and one night he even starts asking you to sit with him, to listen to the conversations he has with his friends.

He's very rich and that's a first fact you learn about him. He's a scientist, a physicist of some kind and he runs projects for the government. He knows about people with gifts, people like Agurne and Lourdes and any mention of them usually leads to interesting disputes.

"My fiancé always says that we are the future," Lourdes tells them one evening when they all have had too much to drink. "People with gifts. Soon there will be more of us."

"Interesting view," comments Nathan, a doctor of some kind, Brian's best friend and confidante. You can't help but hate him, for some reason. "Is your beau here, Lourdes? I would love to meet him."

Lourdes giggles.

"He is not," she replies cheerfully. "Klaus is in Germany now. He is doing research, but he will come back to me soon."

"When he does, you will have to introduce us," Brian adds, merry and interested. He keeps one arm possessively around your waist. "I'm sure we'll become fast friends. We might even help each other out with research."

They all laugh like it was a joke and maybe it was, but you just didn't get it. But you laugh anyway, because there isn't a reason not to. Your life is as nice as it can be, under the circumstances, and you know that Brian likes you enough to consider marrying you. You come from wealth, you received proper education, you've been observing your mother long enough to know how to be a good wife.

Of course Brian is not looking for good, he's looking for perfect. You can do perfect.

He proposes to you in the club several nights after. He gives you his mother's ring and he kisses you. He offers you wealth and comfort, he offers you a position and a surname. He offers you everything and everything is what you need. You'd rather want the nothing you had with Charlie, but you have everything you need now so you're not going to complain.

You go back home not defeated, but as Mrs. Brian Xavier and your daddy welcomes you with opened arms. You're still his little girl and he couldn't have been further from the truth.

12.

You don't start drinking because of the guilt. Well, you do start drinking because of the guilt, but you don't regret it. It was the right thing to do, it needed to be done and one day everyone will see that. Or maybe they won't, if you'll be able to keep everything quiet, just the way you want it to be.

You start drinking because of the unease the guilt makes you feel and because the nightmares are a bitch. And they're not even yours to begin with — not all of them anyway — and Charles is eight and he should be able to cope. Sleeping on the same floor as he does is painful and you'll have to talk to the maids in the morning. Maybe you should move his bedroom further away from your own.

But you'll need another drink first.

8.

Two years into your marriage you give birth to a son. He's a tiny little thing, has a dusting of brown hair and Brian's brilliant blue eyes. He's so small that you're afraid to hold him, you're sure that you'll crash him and hurt him and besides, you don't even _want_ to hold him. You dump him into one of the maids' hands at first convenience.

The maid — Ginny, you think — tells you that she understands that having a baby is hard and that you'll need time, but she assures you that you'll come to love this precious little thing. Ginny makes cooing noises at your son and it physically sickens you to witness it. He is not cute and he is not precious, and you don't think that Ginny is right, but you keep that for yourself.

You haven't discussed any names prior to the boy's birth and suddenly you and Brian find yourselves with an unnamed infant. For the next couple of days he's still 'the baby', 'the infant', but mostly 'it' when it comes to you, and you really need to decide on something. You propose 'Charles' as a name — it's old fashioned and proper, has a posh sound to it — and Brian agrees. He writes down your surname as the boy's middle name and it's so British that it makes you smile. Brian, as an American, didn't have to respect your family roots — but he did and you're grateful.

Your 'it' becomes Charles Francis Xavier and it takes time, getting used to him having a name. Sometimes you think you preferred it when Charles was an 'it' — he seemed less... real then. He's plenty real now and he needs attention and you don't want to give him that. Ginny is good at it though, and Lourdes Chantel thinks that Charles is the most beautiful child in the world. You happen not to agree, but that's fine.

"Hello, Charlie," Lourdes says as she gives him a teddy bear.

You immediately get up, go the crib and take the toy away. Charles looks at you with confused blue eyes. You don't really like blue.

"Charles," you correct Lourdes, because there can be only one Charlie in your life and you're not willing to let him be replaced with... with this. "And don't give him toys, he should learn to be able to cope on his own."

"He's a child, Sharon."

You shrug.

"He won't always be."

Lourdes tries to visit as often as she can and, together with Ginny and Agurne, she tries to shower the boy with affection he needs and will never get from you. Nathan comes with them one day and he observes Charles with a hungry, predatory look in his eyes that you don't like. He wants something with the boy, he wants _Charles_ and you feel a sudden surge of protectiveness.

It has nothing to do with him being your son, though. It's just... Nathan clearly wants something you have and you are very possessive about things you own.

11.

Kurt holds you close during the funeral and to everyone he is the perfect example of a concerned friend of the family, consoling the widow of his partner. It's anything but.

"You're good," he whispers into your ear as they move in the conduct, "but what makes you think..."

"Don't think that I won't tell," you hiss through clenched teeth. "You could have saved him, but you decided to leave him to die. You were at the lab even though..." You take a breath. "You were at the lab, heard the explosion and you ran away. You've let Brian die. He suffocated because you didn't take him out. Don't kid yourself, Kurt. I _know_."

You hear him swallow and then he's kissing your brow and wiping nonexistent tears from your face. You receive so many condolences that day that it's hard to remember who came to the funeral and who didn't. The Chantel sisters did and Lourdes hugged Charles tightly as Agurne explained that they're leaving New York for Berlin soon. Nathan didn't show up. You're not exactly surprised.

"Mother?"

Charles tugs at your dress and forces you to look down at him. He looks so young and so scared; his hair is still short where Brian and Nathan had shaved it and he presses his left arm to his body — you're sure the cuts there still hurt and itch.

You clench your fist. Nathan and Brian, they've broken something that's yours, scratched beyond repair something that belongs to you and you _hate them_.

"Charles." You kneel in front of him and you take his face into your hands, force him to look at you. You don't want him to be broken, not like that, not yet. "Charles. I want you to remember that your father was a good man and that he loved you." Charles shakes his head and you press your fingers harder into his cheeks. "Charles, this is important. I want you to remember only that your father cared for you and loved you. Can you do that for me?"

His blue eyes are wide as saucers and so bright that they almost look gray. Charles nods.

"Okay." You take a deep breath. You don't want him to be damaged since day one and this is the only way. "Charlie. Mummy is asking you to do this."

He does. He spends the next two months crying over his daddy, but _God_ , he does.

8.

Brian starts bringing Charles to his lab. It's nothing suspicious at first, a minor bruise here, a little cut there, but then he starts taking blood samples, lets Nathan set up a whole _file_ for Charles and that's it, you snap.

"You can't use Charles as a lab rat," you tell him on one of those rare occasions when he's actually home. He's out so frequently, either busy on some nuclear project with Kurt Marko or in lab with Nathan — it's not easy to get him to talk.

"Why not?" he asks from over his notes, barely paying you attention at all.

"Because he's your _son_."

You're not attached to Charles. You don't love him, but you have him and you can't wrap your mind around the fact that someone would willingly submit their own _child_ to such treatment. It's not the matter of emotions, it's a matter of principles.

"So what?" Brian sets the notes aside and smiles at you with that charming smile of his. "You never wanted him and, quite frankly, I didn't want him either. But I'm making the most of it. At least this way he's actually _useful_."

You leave Brian's office so angry that you frighten Ginny. This has gone too far, you decide. You have to do something about it, about Brian, because it's not only about Charles. You know that Kurt Marko's son is also, somehow involved, and probably other children, unwanted and unnoticed, won by Nathan's and Brian's charming words and personalities. This is not about Charles. This is about right and wrong and _no one_ should subject a _child_ to that kind of treatment, ever.

You'll have to deal with it. You'll find a way to deal with it.

10.

You've never visited the lab before, so Kurt is immediately suspicious.

"Did you want anything, Sharon?" he asks as politely as he can and you shake your head. You already have all you wanted, planted nicely in various places, unnoticed till the last moment. It's perfect, really. "Brian is not here, he and Nathan went out..."

"I know," you interrupt and smile. "I just wanted to... admire your work."

He raises his brows sceptically, but doesn't comment and you are grateful. And Kurt is not such a bad man, all things considered. Harsh and easy to anger, constantly grieving his Marjorie. Not involved in whatever it is that Brian and Nathan are researching, maybe too cowardly to participate.

"You should stay at home tomorrow," you suggest quietly. Kurt laugh bitterly.

"You know, I don't have a fortune I can rely on when I'm too lazy to go to work." He tries to smile and doesn't quite manage. "Thank you for your concern, Sharon."

"That's not concern." You pin him with a deadly serious look. "If I were you, I would stay the hell away from this lab tomorrow."

Kurt frowns.

"Are you sure you are fine, Sharon?"

"Yes," you answer. "Very fine, actually."

9.

You're drinking coffee when you're informed about the explosion. You thank the policemen for bringing the news and accept their deepest condolences. You offer them cookies as they leave and they regard you with concern. But you haven't lost it. On the contrary, you feel _wonderful_.

You go to Charles' room and it's still early in the morning, so the boy is sleeping. He's almost seven and you've never seen him sleeping before. He's... he's pretty, you have to admit. Has Brian's good looks and mesmerizing eyes and will be very handsome when he grows up. You won't be able to stand looking at him, you think. Too much like his father, not enough like his namesake.

You comb his hair with your fingers. Its mostly soft and silky, like your hair, but there are several patches... You tremble with anger and pull your hand back. You don't want to wake him, you don't want to explain.

There are days when you watch Ginny play with him and wonder, why I can't be that woman? You wonder why you can't make yourself care for him. You are concerned with his safety, but nothing more. You often think of him as a valuable thing you have, a gift you've received and didn't like, but couldn't return, a gift you've come to like enough to be bothered when someone scratches it or dirties it. But an 'it' nonetheless.

And when you look at Charles sleeping, and when you think of all those times when you've watched Charlie sleep in the orchard of your family mansion and when your heart starts beating faster and your eyes fill with tears, you think you've found your answer.

It's not that you can't love. It's that all the love you had, you've already given away to someone else and there's nothing left anymore.

You lean a little bit and kiss the top of Charles' head.

"Sleep well, my love," you say and the words sound alien to you, sound wrong, and it's a cruel mockery of all the loving gestures good mothers have for their children.

You're not that kind of mother and there's nothing of you that you can give Charles. But that's fine, he has everything else he could ever dream of. It's not perfect, but that's the way the world is, you can't have _everything_ and you simply have to live with it.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by my conversation with a friend. After bitching about Shaw for a moment, we decided that what Shaw did to Erik is awful and wrong, but not as awful and wrong as what Brian Xavier did to Charles. Maybe it's another scale, it very much is and I am aware, but I think that Brian Xavier is gazillion times worse than Shaw. He did that to his son, and I'm not going to start on the "duty of care" thing.
> 
> After that conversation I thought, maybe Sharon wasn't the worse parent. Maybe she tried to protect Charles in her very own, very wrong way. And the idea of this fic was born - one scene at the beginning, the one with Sharon trying to warn Kurt Marko the day before the explosion in the lab.
> 
> Of course, having that scene needed adding some explanation of why. Why did she do that if she didn't care? Why didn't she care in the first place? Why Charles doesn't remember all that shit his father had put him through? And it all comes to Sharon being materialistic and cold - she doesn't love Charles and she doesn't want him, but she likes the idea of _having_ him and therefore she won't let him be hurt. And it says a lot, the fact that Sharon's one truly selfless act was basically emotionally blackmailing her son into blocking his own memories.
> 
> But it worked.
> 
> I also wanted to comment on the matter of powers. The whole passage with the Chantel sisters was brought to life after I started wondering about Raven's arrival. We know that Charles somehow altered the memories of everyone, but I wanted Sharon not to be affected (a familial bond, so to say - I stretched the Summers Siblings Immunity Precedent to cover other close relatives as well). I also had the cemetary scene. So how did Sharon come to know about mutants and why wasn't she freaking out? The obvious answer was that she's already met some, through Brian probably - who was working with Nathan Milbury aka Mister Sinister, for God's sake. But instead, I decided to have Sharon meet Brian through mutants, someone whose help she needed while still looking for the love of her life. And because I love soft irony, I decided to make Lourdes Chantel - aka Sebastian Shaw's girlfriend - Sharon's friend. (Agurne Chantel is made up and her power is based on Molly Walker's one.)
> 
> I also believe that Sharon Francis was such a fierce bitch that she wouldn't have been baffled by anyone, let alone a mutant. (And for all her humanity, she would kick Emma Frost's ass in a face-off.)
> 
> What can I say now. Thank you for reading and going through this author's notes!rambling. If you have any question, feel free to ask, I love disputing.


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